


Catching Pigeons

by PhilTrashNo164



Series: Happier [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Chris deserves so much happiness, Happy Birthday to my Friend, M/M, but I could make it into more if anyone likes it, this is just a cute oneshot, who this fic is for, you're great I hope you like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhilTrashNo164/pseuds/PhilTrashNo164
Summary: Retail is supposed to be soul-sucking, but sometimes - just sometimes - something happens that makes it seem for a moment - just a moment - like everything will be OK.Or: Chris is happier.





	Catching Pigeons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [americanphancakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanphancakes/gifts).



> inspired by Chris’s tweet a few weeks back about catching a pigeon at work. This fic is dedicated to my friend americanphancakes - happy birthday!! :D

You’d think the pigeon was Benedict-fucking-Cumberbatch reincarnate for all the attention it’s getting.

 

To be fair, it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened at work since he started, and it’s not exactly up against stiff competition. Who wants to buy mountain-climbing gear in June?

 

(He’s still not sure how he got the job - his answer to “how often do you go climbing?” was “oh, you know, my house has stairs. I get a bit winded climbing up them sometimes.”)

 

He’s leaning over the til, staring at James, who is currently crouching down, cooing at the stupid pigeon with a loving expression on his face, and Chris doesn’t feel jealous of a stupid bird, of course he doesn’t.

 

(James is, like, chronically straight. Just his type, then.)

 

The pigeon flies up on top of a pile of fleeces, and James watches it go with a look of pain. “No, come back! I thought we were friends!”

 

“If it shits on the clothes, does this mean this place gets closed down for health and safety reasons, and we all get loads of early retirement money? A girl can dream, right?” Sarah asks, materialising next to Chris, arms crossed, the same “fuck my life” expression on her face that’s been there since he started, and has probably been there since the dawn of time.

 

Sarah is the reason he hasn’t tried to strangle himself with the climbing ropes. She’s sarcastic, and disillusioned, and witty, and he’d be totally in love with her if she wasn’t a perfect match for her girlfriend.

 

(And if James didn’t exist, cause how can Chris look at anyone else with James around?)

 

“You should catch the pigeon,” Sarah says, smirking at him. “I can film it and you can put it up on your channel, and we can relaunch your YouTube career. Prepare for the fame. And I want 35% of the profits.”

 

She’s the only one he’s talked to about the whole YouTube thing. She’s a failed child-prodigy-violinist, so she gets how he feels about the whole thing.

 

“I don’t think that’s in my contract,” he says. “What if it bites me and I get some gross disease and my dick falls off and I die?”

 

She replies instantly: “I thought you wanted to die?”

 

He huffs out a laugh at that, has no answer to it that isn’t morbid and depressing, but she seems to understand, cause she just nudges his shoulder and says “I bet if you catch the pigeon and let James pet it before you let it go, he’ll totally fall for you.”

 

“Is my crush really that obvious?”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Catch. It. Before it shits everywhere and I have to clean it up. Please.”

 

“Ugh. Fine.”

 

How the fuck do you catch a pigeon? He doesn’t have any bread to offer it. Would soup work? Maybe he could empty the soup out, ram the flask over the pigeon - that might break its neck but it also might not - and then just tip it outside?

 

He walks up to where the pigeon is sitting on its fleece pile, looking like a smug little bastard.

 

“Go outside,” he says, pointing to the door. “Go on. Shoo.”

 

The pigeon just blinks at him.

 

“That’s not going to work, idiot!” Sarah calls from the til, but he’s distracted by James’ sudden presence beside him.

 

“Uh, hi?”

 

James smiles at him dreamily. His heart skips a beat. Then James turns to the pigeon, smiles at it with that same dreamy smile, and Chris thinks _oh, it’s not me, it’s the pigeon. Fucking fantastic._

 

“Pigeons are actually really intelligent, you know,” James says, still smiling at the stupid pigeon, and, OK, maybe Chris _is_ getting a little jealous now. “They’re so misunderstood.”

 

“Huh,” Chris says, cause apparently James makes him unable to say anything resembling actual real words.

 

They stare at the pigeon for a couple of minutes, and then, before he can talk himself out of it, Chris lunges towards the pigeon and cups it in his hands-

 

He expected it to freak the fuck out and bite him or shit on him or maybe give birth on him or something like that, but the pigeon just looks up at him, and he swears it almost shrugs.

 

“Pet it,” he says to James, a little desperately. “Please. Before it passes on hundreds of diseases.”

 

James is looking at him with adoration, and he feels his cheeks grow hot.

 

“We need to name it first,” James says, and Chris might let out a little panicked squeak at the thought of more time holding the pigeon, more time for it to bite his thumb off and for him to die of blood loss, but if he does, it’s a very manly squeak.

 

“Dave,” he says. “Call it Dave.”

 

James peers at the bird. “But does it _look_ like a ‘Dave’?”

 

Chris can’t fucking believe this. “Call it Angelica then. Or Brendon. Or Gerald. Or Tom-Dan-Mary-Trisha-Bernard-Patrick-just-name-it!”

 

“I’m going to call it…” James says slowly, and then doesn’t finish the sentence.

 

“Call. It. What?” Chris chokes out.

 

“...James.”

 

Chris blinks at him. “You’re going to- you’re naming the pigeon after _yourself_?”

 

James shrugs at him, but it’s a proud sort of shrug. “I don’t want kids. Gotta leave a legacy somehow.”

 

A beat passes.

 

“I’m just gonna, you know, take _James_ outside,” Chris says.

 

“Sure.”

 

Chris turns towards the door, manages a few strides, freezes when James calls his name.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We should hang out,” James says, looking at the floor. “After work. If we survive. We could get drinks. And I could tell you more about pigeons?”

 

Chris manages the first real smile since he started working here. “I’d like that.”

 

“We could have a Sex On The Beach?”

 

He freezes for a second time, nearly drops the pigeon. “I-”

 

“Yeah.” James rubs the back of his neck, looks up at him shyly. “I watch your videos. And your collabs. Uh. So. Drinks?” He manages a shy wink.

 

Chris is lost for words. “Drinks,” he repeats, and then goes to take the pigeon outside.

 

Another smile graces his lips.

 

Sometimes - just sometimes - life isn’t so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> do you guys want me to make this into a series/ chaptered work? Will anyone actually read this and like it? So many questions! Say hi on tumblr at mysticalkoalamiracle!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Catching Happiness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344344) by [Emotionallyunstabl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionallyunstabl/pseuds/Emotionallyunstabl)




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